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[Illustration:

  M. D. SEARS
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                        MISS PECK’S ADVENTURES.


                            THE SECOND PART

                                   OF

                           The Conceited Pig.




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                                LONDON:

                   JOSEPH MASTERS, ALDERSGATE STREET,

                          AND NEW BOND STREET.

                               MDCCCLIV.


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                                LONDON:
                   PRINTED BY JOSEPH MASTERS AND CO.,
                           ALDERSGATE STREET.




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                        MISS PECK’S ADVENTURES.

                         ---------------------


Any people who may happen to have read the story of “Wilful, the
Conceited Pig,” will recollect how he had called up his friend, Miss
Peck, one night, from the henhouse, where there had been a great
disagreement between her and Cock-a-doodle, and how they had set off
together to the Queen’s house, to tell Her Majesty some very curious
news; also how they had very soon parted company, not being able to
agree as to which was the right road, and how Wilful’s journey had come
to a very sad end, long before he was anywhere near the palace of Her
Majesty the Queen. Now they may also like to know something of Miss
Peck’s adventures; and I am therefore going to relate them, thinking
that, perhaps, we may find almost as much to take warning by, in her
history, as in Wilful’s conceit, and the terrible punishment it met
with.

Miss Peck felt rather lonely at first, when she found herself out in the
dusky lane alone, at that time of night; but still she could not help
chuckling to think how Wilful had persisted in taking the wrong road,
and was travelling all for nothing, whilst she was sure to reach the
Queen’s house in time, if her poor legs would but carry her far enough.

“There is no need to go so fast, at any rate,” she thought to herself.
“If we got to the palace so early in the morning very likely Her Majesty
the Queen would not be up, as I would have told Wilful, only he never
will stop to listen to a word one has to say. Why our old David at home
never gets up to give us our breakfast till Cock-a-doodle has walked
round the yard several times, talked to all his family, told them his
dreams—which, I must, say, I am very tired of hearing—and crowed over
and over again. I am sure if it were not for the early walk into the
rick-pen, which I make a point of taking every morning, and the little
bit of support that I get there, I should be dead with hunger long
before breakfast time; but nobody ever seems to remember how delicate my
health is, and old David would not get up a bit the sooner, I verily
believe, if I were dying. However, it is better than if Betsy Chopper
had the feeding of us entirely, for I know that the smoke never begins
to come out of the kitchen chimney till a little while before she gives
us our dinner, and what the family do for something to eat I never can
think. The poor ladies, I know, never look out of window or get a breath
of air till the middle of the day in summer, and I believe they have no
rick-pen to go to, and are obliged to wait till Betsy Chopper chooses to
get up and feed them. The Queen may very likely not be as late as Betsy
Chopper; but it is ten to one if she is as early as old David, so there
can be no occasion to hurry oneself.”

So Miss Peck walked on in a leisurely manner, picking her way along the
dirty lane, as well as the darkness would allow, and every now and then
stopping a minute or two to rest her poor legs by turns.

Now not very far from Miss Peck’s own residence there stood a poor
tumble-down cottage, in which lived an old woman, who kept a thin
tortoiseshell cat and a little poultry. And on each side of the small
wicket-gate leading to the cottage—which was close to the lane—stood a
very thick yew-tree, cut into the form of a sugar-loaf at the top. Miss
Peck was not brave, and when she reached this part of the lane, and saw,
as she thought, two black giants, with plumes on their heads, standing
not far before her, she was so horribly frightened that she screamed
with all her might, and was very near running back the way she came,
faster than she had ever run before. However, she had just resolution
enough to stop and think what was best to be done, when, strange to say,
one of the giants seemed to cry out Cock-a-doodle-doo, in a voice of
thunder, and, all at once, came flapping down upon poor Miss Peck,
rolling her over in the mud, and nearly driving all the breath out of
her body with the shock and the terror. Getting on her legs again
somehow or other, she ran behind a little heap of stones, where she
stood panting and trembling, and with ruffled feathers, when again the
same hateful cry rang in her ears, repeated three times, even louder
than before—“Cock-a-doodle-doo, Cock-a-doodle-doo, Cock-a-doodle-doo!”
Scarcely daring to look round, and expecting every instant to be
swallowed up alive, or torn to pieces by one of the giants, Miss Peck
wished herself safe at home again, with all her might, in spite of
Cock-a-doodle’s tyranny, when, luckily, there came a faint gleam of
light, and she saw, as she thought, Cock-a-doodle himself sitting on the
top of the little wicket-gate between the two yew-trees. Could it have
been he who had given her such a fright on purpose, or had he come out
all this way to find her, and bring her home, and tell her how sorry he
was not to have shown her more attention? She crept a little nearer,
and, hoping to move his pity, gave a faint cry, as if she were in great
pain and distress. “Who is that?” said a voice, which was not
Cock-a-doodle’s; and Miss Peck replied directly “that she was an
unfortunate young person who was travelling across the country on
business of importance, and she hoped that the gentleman to whom she was
speaking, whoever he might be, would take pity upon her, and protect her
from the dangers which surrounded her, for, indeed, she never was so
frightened in all her life, and she did not know how she should ever
find courage to continue her journey.”

“But, madam, might I ask,” said the gentleman on the gate, “what the
important business is, which obliges you to be on the road at this time
of night?”

“I will tell you, sir, with the greatest pleasure,” said Miss Peck,
“although my poor nerves are so shaken that I can scarcely speak, but if
you could come a little nearer I should not be obliged to talk so loud.”

“Oh, you will not disturb the old woman,” said her new acquaintance,
“and as to the old cat, I saw her go by some time ago, and I believe she
is spending the evening with the young jackdaws, who live in the
church-roof. She has taken a great fancy to that family lately, and says
that she finds them very agreeable, though shy; but I should doubt
whether they were very fond of _her_, for you must know, madam, that the
old cat is, in my opinion, one of the most conceited and selfish persons
that ever lived, and if the old woman knew all her bad ways I do not
think that she could allow her to continue in the house.”

“Ah, indeed!” said Miss Peck, “well do I know, sir, what it is to have
to do with that sort of people. From your account I should fear that the
old cat was very little better than Cock-a-doodle himself.”

Miss Peck then proceeded to give a long history of Cock-a-doodle’s
unkindness to her, her own dreadful sufferings from spasms, which
deprived her of her natural rest,—Miss Spangle’s spitefulness, in
continuing fast asleep without once offering to help her,—and then the
whole account of Wilful’s visit to the henhouse, and their setting off
together to tell the Queen that the stars were falling out of the sky.

“And now, sir,” added Miss Peck, “perhaps you will do me the great
kindness to tell me your name, for I have no doubt now, that it was
entirely owing to your interference, that I was not swallowed alive by
one of those horrible giants, which gave me such an alarm just now.”

“My name, madam,” answered the stranger, “is Cockielockie, at your
service, but I think, owing to your youth and inexperience, you have
probably mistaken these two respectable old yew trees, in one of which
the seven ladies of my family are sleeping at this moment, for giants,
or perhaps their shadows across the road deceived you, or it might be
the old cat returning from her visit to the Jackdaws. At any rate,
madam, here are no giants, I assure you, for the truth is that the old
woman leads such a dull life that no giant ever comes near the place,
and I have not seen so much as the face of Tim Scamp, the little pedlar,
for the last six months. It is very sad to live so out of the world, and
I must confess that I should like a little more society. The old woman
is so particular and old-fashioned; and the cat is so ill-mannered and
vulgar, that it is very trying to one’s patience, and I do not find much
comfort in my own family, for I am sorry to say that they are always
quarrelling. I cannot speak to one without the other’s being jealous,
and to tell the truth, (though I am sure you will not repeat it,) I was
awoke just now by the screams of my two daughters, Partridge and
Speckle, who had had their ears boxed by Mrs. Cockielockie, for saying
that they knew I wished she was dead! If I do wish it, they need not
have told her so, and now I shall never hear the last of it. If I could
but get away for a time, it might blow over, or Mrs. Cockielockie might
be gone.”

“Well, my dear sir,” said Miss Peck, interrupting him, “why cannot you
come with me to the Queen? It would be an opportunity of introducing
yourself to the very highest society, and I should be delighted with the
honour of your company. Indeed, I really feel very lonely, travelling
all by myself, and am very much in want of protection, which is just
what I am sure, sir, you are always ready to afford to a poor weak young
creature, like myself, though whenever one complains of helplessness, it
seems to make some people, that I could mention, more spiteful and
tyrannical than ever!”

“Believe me, dear madam,” said Cockielockie,—who was very much pleased
at the idea of paying a visit to the Queen,—“believe me, that never
could be my case, I will accompany you instantly with the greatest
pleasure, and I trust that, if we should meet with any enemies on the
road you will find my spurs quite able to defend you from them. Under
these circumstances, madam, I shall set off without giving my usual
crow, which, hitherto, I have never failed to perform at this hour. It
was my dear mother’s first and last lesson to me. She took the greatest
pains to teach it me when young, and I remember how vexed she used to be
when I forgot my crows, or cut them so short that no one could
understand what I said, or did not repeat them exactly at the right
time. She told me that if I went on so I should be good for nothing, and
might as well be boiled at once; and the last thing she said to me,
before she disappeared, and I fear was boiled herself, was, ‘Cockie,
mind your crows.’ To tell the truth, however, now, my dear Miss Peck, I
am afraid of waking the ladies in the yew-tree. Mrs. Cockielockie would
make such a fuss, and then the old woman might be disturbed, for though
she is very deaf, I have heard the cat say that she always hears when
you most wish she should not; for there was a small piece of the tail of
a red herring which she promised one evening at supper to give to
her,—at least so Mrs. Puss told me,—and then she put it away in the
cupboard, and went to bed, and forgot it! So the cat being hungry, could
not go to sleep, and was just getting into the cupboard, to eat her own
bit of fish, when down came the old woman to know what all that
scratching and scrambling was about, and the cat was forced to pretend
to be catching a mouse, and never got the herring after all, for the old
woman locked it up, and took the key away with her. I think, therefore,
madam, although it seems to be neglecting one’s duties, that we had
better set off as quietly as possible.”

So saying, Cockielockie shook himself gently, brushed his feathers,
scraped his claws, and then came down from the little wicket-gate, on
which he had all this time been sitting, and asked Miss Peck if she was
now ready to go on.

Miss Peck, having quite recovered from her fright, had been impatient to
proceed on her journey all the time that Cockielockie was talking, so on
they went, talking pleasantly all the way of their different sufferings,
and the hard trials they each of them met with from undeserved
persecutions at home.

And they went, and they went, and they went down the lane, round the
turning, and up the hill to the left, till they saw something white
moving slowly on before them which, when they came nearer, seemed to be
a duck, but its head hung down so wretchedly, its wings were so
drooping, and its whole air so forlorn, that Miss Peck herself doubted,
at first, what it could be. But when they came quite close, they saw
that they were not mistaken, so Cockielockie, who had always a word for
everybody, said in a cheerful manner:

“How do you do, Duckiedaddles? You are up early this dark morning. Where
may you be going to, if I may venture to ask the question?”

The duck shook her head sadly, heaved a sigh, and said:

“Oh, Cockielockie, I am a poor wretched creature, who can find no
pleasure in life, and have had great misfortunes, and so I am going to
consult an old friend, who lives a little way off, about making my will,
and then return home, and hang myself in the well rope, behind the
carthouse.”

“Oh, pray, my dear madam,” exclaimed Miss Peck, “pray do not say such
shocking things, or you will quite overcome me, for my feelings are very
soon upset, owing to my unfortunate spasms. I am sure that my friend,
Cockielockie, will be able to do everything in the world for you, if you
will only explain the case to him.”

“Thank you, Hennypenny,” answered the duck, while her tears fell fast:
“I will tell you all about it, though I fear that Cockielockie will
never be able to do me any good. My sorrow is owing to my having had my
family taken away from me, and my own little ones brought up by a
stranger, and one of the last persons whom I should ever have chosen to
put them under. One evening I was returning home, having been out for a
little walk round the shrubbery with my friend Mrs. Gobble, when I found
that my nest was taken away, and so the tiresome life that I had been
leading, sitting there, day after day, for hours together, was all
trouble for nothing. It was the third time that the very same thing had
happened to me, and whether it was one of Master Samuel’s mischievous
tricks, or, whether Jem, the old carter, who was always meddling with
what did not concern him, was at the bottom of it, I could not guess,
for I was then far from suspecting the right person; and so was Mrs.
Gobble, for I went to her directly, and though she was sorry to see me
vexed, she said it was a good thing that I should not have to stay at
home so much, for she was sure I must have been nearly moped to death,
and she would not have led such a dull life, for all the little yellow
ducklings that ever were seen. So I got over my disappointment as well
as I could, and I remember that a party of us went out walking that
evening, and the weather was beautiful, pouring rain every minute, and
puddles running here and there, and everything so nice and wet, and I
caught eleven large slugs, and felt much more contented. Indeed I had
quite forgotten all about it, when, a long time afterwards, as I was
coming in from a swimming match with some friends, one morning, what
should I see but six or seven handsome little yellow ducklings, running
in and out of a new house, which stood not far from the water. I looked
very hard at them, for I suspected how it was, and as I passed close to
the house, which was open in front, I looked in, and saw Mrs. Topknot
sitting there as grand as could be, and spreading herself out as if she
did not know how to be proud enough. She was always giving herself airs,
I must tell you, and never was so civil to me as she ought to have been,
but being of a meek disposition myself, I just stopped for a minute, and
said, ‘Good morning, Mrs. Topknot. Whose is this lovely young family
that you seem to have about you?’ ‘Whose?’ she answered, as shortly as
possible. ‘Why your own to be sure, Mrs. Daddles, and I am going to
bring them up, for everybody knows that you are such a gossiping,
gadabout creature, that you are not fit to have the management of a
family. You may think yourself very lucky that your young ones should be
placed under the charge of such a wise and well-informed person as I am,
instead of being left to shift for themselves, as they would be if they
depended upon your care.’

“I was so full of grief and anger at hearing this speech, that I could
hardly speak, and, as if to enrage me still more, Mrs. Topknot called
out to the ducklings to come to her directly, and I saw that the little
dears did not dare to disobey her; so in they ran, and she shuffled them
all under her wings, and would not even let me look at them, but one got
his head half-out, and peeped at me, as much as to say, that if he could
do as he liked, he would not be squeezed up in that way long.

“‘And do you really mean to refuse to let me take away my own little
ducklings, Mrs. Topknot?’ said I, ‘because, in that case I shall go
immediately to Jem, the carter, and get him to wring your neck!’

“Mrs. Topknot only gave a scornful laugh and answered, ‘As if anybody
would mind what you said, indeed! You should have stayed at home, and
attended to your own affairs instead of always sauntering about with
that lazy Mrs. Gobble. Be thankful that your family are sure of a good
education. I shall not allow them to get into any of the dirty, dabbling
ways, that you, and all your relations, are so fond of, I can tell you!’

“‘Very well, Mrs. Topknot,’ I answered: ‘I see you think yourself wiser
than everybody else, as usual; but depend upon it, though you may bring
up very good chickens, you will never make good ducklings as long as you
live. It is quite a different thing, and so I shall tell Jem, the
carter, since he has not the sense to know it already. Pray can you
swim, Mrs. Topknot? Can you earn an independent living in a gutter? Can
you eat slugs? You know that you, and all your family, are poor,
helpless, delicate creatures, afraid of getting your feet wet, and
obliged to live on the charity of Jem, the carter. How should you be
able to bring up young ducklings to do their duty in their own station?
You are quite mistaken if you expect ever to make chickens of them. I
know by the look of their feet, that they will take to the water in
spite of you, and then pray what will you do? Just let them come with
me, and I will soon show you what little ducklings are made for. You
have no right to keep my children squeezed up in that corner, where they
can scarcely breathe. I know you will kill them before you have done.’

“So I went on, begging and praying Mrs. Topknot to restore to me my own
family, and even shedding tears to move her pity, but all in vain. She
would not mind a word I said, and, in the greatest affliction, I went
off to Mrs. Gobble, to ask her opinion about what was to be done. But
Mrs. Gobble was just going out walking with a friend, and would hardly
find time to listen to my story. She only said, that if I thought Jem,
the carter, would understand anything about it, I should only be
disappointed, for he was always doing the most foolish things, and
making mischief in the yard in almost every family. I felt, therefore,
that it was not of the least use to complain to him, for he would have
been quite as likely to wring my neck, as Mrs. Topknot’s, and being
weary of such an unkind world, and Mrs. Gobble not asking me to go with
her and her friend I determined to hang myself in the well-rope, as I
said; only as I have a small piece of cabbage-leaf behind the pig-sty,
and two young snails in a corner of the garden-wall, I think it best to
make my will; for, my dear Mr. Cockielockie, and Mrs. Hennypenny, you
must now see that my distress is too great to admit of any relief.”

“My name,” said Miss Peck, rather angrily, as soon as Duckiedaddles
ceased speaking, “is not Hennypenny, Mrs. Daddles; and I must say,
though extremely sorry for your misfortunes, that I think grief must
have confused your mind a little, or you would not have made such a
mistake about a young person like myself. My name is Miss Peck, and I
and my friend Mr. Cockielockie are on our way to Her Most Gracious
Majesty the Queen, to tell her that the stars are all falling out of the
sky.”

“And I think, Mrs. Daddles,” interrupted Cockielockie, “that you cannot
do better than come along with us, and then you will have an opportunity
of laying your melancholy case before Her Majesty, who very likely will
order Mrs. Topknot and Jem the carter’s heads to be sent to her
immediately; for I know she is particular about her own family, and
would be very angry if any one were to take them away from her, and
instead of letting them grow into good little kings and queens, with
crowns on their heads, as they ought to do, were to try to make them
wear topknots and live upon barley meal.”

Mrs. Daddles was very willing to agree to Cockielockie’s proposal, for,
as she said, she could see about making her will when she came back. So
they went, and they went, and they went, until, turning a corner of the
lane, what should they see walking towards them, in a grave and solemn
manner, but a goose.

“Good morning, Duckiedaddles, Cockielockie, Hennypenny,” said she,
bowing very politely at the same time.

“My name, madam,” said the unlucky Peck, taking care to answer before
the others, “my name is Miss Peck; but you are quite correct as to my
two companions, Mr. Cockielockie and Mrs. Duckiedaddles, who have had
the kindness to accompany me on a journey of great importance, which it
has been my duty to undertake. And I am sure, unused as I am to
travelling alone, I do not know what I should do without the support of
their society. Will you allow me to ask, Mrs. Goosiepoosie, where you
are going to so early in the morning?”

“I am going,” answered Mrs. Goosiepoosie, putting on an air of great
importance, “to make an early visit to Her Majesty the Queen, on very
pressing business.”

“To the Queen!” they all exclaimed at once. “Pray, madam, do us the
favour to tell us your errand?”

“Why, to tell the truth,” replied Goosiepoosie, “it is a secret known
only at present to my own family, but I have no objection to mentioning
it so to such respectable people as yourselves, as I am sure you are
quite to be trusted. You are aware that I and all my family have been
accustomed from generation to generation, to dress in white, and have
hitherto allowed our young ones to wear coats of the same colour as soon
as they are old enough to take care of them. But at last we have quite
grown tired of this style of dress. It was very well for our
grandfathers and grandmothers, but now it looks old-fashioned and dowdy,
and, besides requires a great deal of washing, which makes it expensive;
and so I am going to beg the Queen to give an order for our having in
future black coats, which will be much more becoming, and will entitle
us to as high a place in society as the Turkey family, who now give
themselves such airs and graces over us—as if an old-fashioned British
goose, whose family has belonged to the country and supported the state
in all times, and has led an honest and quiet life from father to son,
were not much more respectable than such upstarts as themselves, who
half ruin all their friends, and cannot speak English so as to be
understood.”

“Very true, madam,” exclaimed Cockielockie, “your observations have a
great deal of weight, only I almost wonder that you should wish to adopt
any imitation of the dress of these foreigners, instead of retaining
that which your grandfathers and grandmothers seem to have found the
most comfortable and convenient, and, I am sure, would never have
changed for the sake of making themselves more like the Turkeys. If you
are tired of white, why do you not ask leave to wear brown and red coats
like ours, which have always been very much admired, and are so much
handsomer than black ones?”

“Why, sir,” rejoined Mrs. Goosiepoosie, “I do not see that your coats
are any better than our own; and it is not very likely that Father
Gander and all the heads of the family would have sent me off on such a
long journey to Her Majesty just to ask her leave to change our dress,
for no reason at all.”

“I thought you said, madam, just now,” replied Cockielockie, rather
slyly, “that you found your old white coats dowdy and expensive. I much
fear, however, that you will be obliged to wear them some little time
longer yet, for as you are going exactly the wrong way, it is not
probable that you will ever reach the palace of Her Majesty the Queen.”

“I beg your pardon,” replied Goosiepoosie, “but as I consulted old
Father Gander before I started, and have carefully attended to his
directions, which were to keep straight on, without turning to the right
leg or to the left, I cannot possibly have gone wrong.”

“Well,” exclaimed Miss Peck, rather sharply, “I can only tell you,
madam, that _we_ are now on our way to the residence of Her Majesty, on
very important business indeed, and as we have already travelled some
distance, we expect very shortly to arrive there. It is not likely that
persons of our rank in life should not know where our gracious Sovereign
lives, having, of course, often heard the bells ring on her birthday,
and also assisted Betsy Chopper in clearing away the crumbs, after a
feast that was given us in honour of it, on a large table, under the
chestnut trees, not very long ago. There were a great many cakes and
curious things to eat, but the naughty children came swarming round the
table, and stole them, before we knew of it, though they were all
intended for us; so even Cock-a-doodle got nothing better than
crumbs—and good enough for him, too. He gave Miss Spangle one of the
largest he found, and never offered me a bit, although I was leaning
against one leg of the table, close to him, at the time, and suffering
agonies of pain from a sudden attack of cramp in my poor leg. But such
is the way I have always been treated. However, madam, I can assure you
that you had much better attend to what we say, and not go on in this
direction, or you will never get to your journey’s end.”

“I am much obliged to you, madam, for your good advice,” replied
Goosiepoosie, with a formal bow, “but Father Gander is certain to be
right, and I shall continue to follow the road which he pointed out.”

“Then you are an obstinate goose for your pains,” cried Cockielockie,
much provoked, “and may wear your vulgar white coat all your life, for
any chance there is of the Queen’s giving you leave to change it.”

Goosiepoosie made a very angry reply, and the quarrel might have
continued to this time, but just then old Simon Joggle, the carrier, was
coming along the road, and so loud and vehement had been the dispute
that they did not hear the wheels of his cart till it was quite close to
them. He was driving pretty fast, and they were standing near the middle
of the road, so that there was scarcely time to get out of the way. The
unfortunate Miss Peck screamed violently, and in her agitation, not
thinking where she was going, she ran under one of the cart wheels, and
it was no longer any joke about her poor left leg, for the wheel went
over it and broke the bone.

Her cries were so terrible, and there was such noise and confusion, and
flapping of wings, at the same instant, that old Simon, who could not
see in the glimmering light what was the matter, stopped his horse and
got out of the cart. Poor Miss Peck, whose screams soon showed him where
she was, tried to get away when he came near her, but she only fell down
in great pain whenever she attempted to move. If the cramp in her leg,
from which she used to suffer so much, especially when she was cross,
had disabled her half as much as this sad accident, Cock-a-doodle could
never have been so barbarous as to refuse to help her up the henhouse
stairs, if fifty Miss Spangles had been near him at the same time. It
was in vain that she struggled, and screamed, and scrambled along the
ground. She was soon in old Simon’s clutches, who was quickly sitting in
his cart again, with the reins in his hand, as if nothing had happened.

But I fear that something very sad _had_ happened; and I am quite sure,
whatever might be her fate, that poor Miss Peck was never more seen or
heard of, although Cock-a-doodle thought it right to make every inquiry
after her, and was very much shocked at the report which was whispered
about the yard the next morning, that she had escaped from the henhouse,
and gone off on a journey with young Master Wilful the conceited pig.

But what became of Cockielockie, Goosiepoosie, and Duckiedaddles? They
had suffered a terrible fright, and almost lost their senses, when old
Simon’s cart came so suddenly upon them; Duckiedaddles, being the last
to see the danger, in her haste, somehow knocked herself against one of
the horse’s legs, and was so stunned by the blow that she lay for some
minutes quite insensible. When she recovered she could see nothing of
her companions; old Simon’s cart was just moving away, and there was a
shrieking sound from the inside, which Duckie thought—but it might have
been fancy—must be like the voice of Miss Peck in a very bad spasm. When
the cart was quite out of sight, Duckie hobbled along till she came to a
little brook that crossed the road, and plunging gladly into it, she
swam through an arch under the hedge, and along some meadows, till she
came to a pond, where, to her great delight, she found several of her
own relations enjoying an early swim. She told them her story, with many
tears and complaints, as she had done to Cockielockie and poor Miss
Peck, and begged to know whether she might remain with them, and so
escape for ever from the tyranny and insolence of Mrs. Topknot and Jem
the carter.

They told her that she was welcome to stay if she pleased, but it was
right to mention that they were particularly subject to very severe
misfortunes, in the frequent losses sustained by their families, as
there was a house very near them, in which a large table was kept, and
at any moment one of them might be seized, and taken in to stand upon
this table, but not one had ever been brought back again. Duckiedaddles,
however, thought that they only said this to frighten her, and felt
quite sure that she should be much happier here than at home, so she
stayed, and led an easy life with her new friends—except a dispute every
now and then—for some time, when, one morning, as they were going down
to the pond, she and Curlytail were not to be seen amongst them, so they
knew directly that they were taken in to stand upon the great table, and
would never come out and swim in the pleasant water any more.

Goosiepoosie’s story is soon told. She first flew over the hedge, and
nearly frightened a red cow, who was lying in the grass on the other
side, into fits; and then, recovering her own senses, set off home as
fast as she could go. When she arrived there, she called all her
companions around her, and told them that, after travelling a long way,
and inquiring everywhere, she found that the Queen’s house was not in
any part of this country, and she was afraid that they should never be
able to reach it; but, that if they waited quietly, perhaps there might
be some opportunity of offering up a petition to her on the subject of
their complaint. So the geese consented to wait, and as no opportunity
of presenting their petition ever occurred, they have continued to wear
their white coats ever since.

Poor Cockielockie had a dismal time of it before he came to the end of
_his_ troubles. He, too, had flown over the hedge on the other side, and
in his great terror, continued, sometimes flying, and sometimes running,
till he came to a copse, where he thought he should be safe; so he lay
down in the thick grass, under a tree, scared and tired, and very much
out of breath. Hearing nothing of his companions, and not seeing
anything to alarm him, he remained there till the morning, dozing a
little, and dreaming of the old cat, and Mrs. Cockielockie, and every
now and then, starting up in the belief that all Farmer Cloverfield’s
waggons and horses were coming down the lane at full gallop, and that he
had not time to get out of the way. All that day he wandered unhappily
about the copse, picking up a few insects, but meeting with no
acquaintance, and not able to find any way out, he felt very lonely and
wretched, and when the daylight was nearly gone, he climbed up into a
hazel tree, and tried to go to sleep. But there was such a rustling and
twittering amongst a family of robins, who lodged just below him, and
who were talking over their plans for the winter, and the changes which
they meant to make in the spring, that it was long before he could close
his eyes. He had barely done so, when a sudden rush from below, and
frightful sounds of pain and terror roused him from his short slumber.
He flew instantly to the ground, and there, in the twilight, he
distinctly saw his former companion, the old cat, standing with two
murdered robins at her feet, while she greedily devoured a third.

“Why, Mrs. Puss,” said he, for her mouth was too full to allow her to
speak first, “may I ask how you came here, and what you are doing?”

“How came I here!” said she, swallowing down the last wing of the robin
as fast as she could. “I should think I had as much business here as you
have, Mr. Cockielockie, particularly if the old woman sends me, to get
her a few nice little birds for her dinner to-morrow. Of course I must
taste them first myself, to see whether they are tough, and I am sure
the one I have just swallowed was tough enough to choke me. I wonder how
I could get it down at all. I hope, for the old woman’s sake, that the
others will be more tender. And, perhaps, you will be good enough to
tell me, Mr. Cockielockie, where you have been all this time, for there
has been such a to-do at home about you, as never was known since Dame
Featherleg drowned herself in the well: Mrs. Cockielockie in hysterics,
all your family sobbing and sighing, and the old woman giving you up for
lost, and hobbling off to Farmer Cloverfield’s to inquire whether Mr.
Brush had been seen in the neighbourhood lately. For goodness’ sake go
home as fast as you can, and make their minds easy, or Mrs. Cockielockie
will be setting off in search of you, with all the family. If there
should be anything that you do not wish mentioned, you may depend, Mr.
Cockielockie, on my keeping it to myself, for I always say, the best of
us would sometimes get into trouble, if our friends made a point of
repeating every little thing that they might happen to know about us,
that seemed to them contrary to one’s duty, and all that! So, if you
will just take that turning to the right, Mr. Cockielockie, and then the
next to the left, you will be on the way to the cottage, and I will come
after you as soon as I have convinced myself that these nasty birds are
too tough to be worth carrying home, which I strongly suspect to be the
case. We shall have plenty of time to talk over our adventures as we
walk along, for it is a good step from hence for you, though nothing for
me, who am an excellent walker.”

Cockielockie thanked Mrs. Puss for her directions, and immediately set
off on the way she pointed out, feeling very thankful for the prospect
of returning to his family, and sleeping once more in his comfortable
old place in the yew-tree. When Mrs. Puss, who very soon came up with
him, as she promised, heard his story, she said, that if he took her
advice, he would never set off on such an errand again, for if anything
so important as the stars falling out of the sky, had really happened,
she and the old woman should have been sure to hear of it, and could let
the Queen know, without troubling a meddlesome person like Miss Peck, to
whom Her Majesty would never have thought of listening for a moment.

So Cockielockie lived very quietly with the old woman ever after; the
Queen has never been told from that day to this that the stars were
falling out of the sky, and things have gone on much the same
notwithstanding. Indeed, I know some people who think it a great pity
that Miss Peck and her companions did not stay at home, and mind their
own concerns. If they had but thought less of themselves, they would not
have been so discontented with their condition, but there is an old
proverb that, “to a crazy ship all winds are contrary,” and as,
according to another homely saying, “Every path has a puddle,” those who
spend their time in complaining, and turning this way and that, to
escape from things that they do not like, and to better themselves in
the world, are neither likely to be very useful to others, or to lead
happy and prosperous lives themselves.




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         MASTERS AND CO., PRINTERS, ALDERSGATE STREET, LONDON.


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 ● Transcriber’s Notes:
    ○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.
    ○ Typographical errors were silently corrected.
    ○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only
      when a predominant form was found in this book.
    ○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).







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